


Count Me Down

by minbins



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, DO NOT REPOST MY WORKS I DO NOT CONSENT TO REPOSTING, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, M/M, Mark Tries to Keep Up, Phone Sex (sort of), Polyamory, Safe Sane and Consensual, Yuta Cock Piercing, Yuta is Infuriatingly Sexy, bets but make them sexy, briefly mentioned tentacle dildos, countdown timer centric, only briefly mentioned but a sexy detail, which are not involved at all in this fic but are Mentioned in passing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:48:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25043410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minbins/pseuds/minbins
Summary: Two and a half minutes. That's the wager. That's how long Mark needs to last talking to his boyfriend on the phone without raising suspicion while hisotherboyfriend fucks him into oblivion.Easy enough, right?
Relationships: Mark Lee/Nakamoto Yuta, Mark Lee/Nakamoto Yuta/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Mark Lee/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Nakamoto Yuta/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 43
Kudos: 845





	Count Me Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [showmeurteef](https://archiveofourown.org/users/showmeurteef/gifts).



> _gifting 2 rae cause they said i should write this when i mentioned the plot idea and it was all the encouragement i needed to give in_
> 
> i'm finishing/proofreading this at 4am, hopefully it is Not Awful
> 
> **this is obviously all consensual + prenegotiated re: kinks. they have all been dating for a while and love each other + know their limits**

“Say I’m considering it...” Mark pauses in faux-deliberation, a front he’s putting up only to ramp up the tension. Half the fun is in this part, the way Yuta likes to persuade Mark into something they both know he already wants. “If I win, I get?...”

“Make it to three minutes, and you get _what-ev-er_ you want,” Yuta promises, pausing from his current focus of sucking hickeys into the soft skin of Mark’s inner thighs. He’s knelt on the floor with Mark’s legs hanging off the bed and hooked over his shoulders, three fingers deep and only just getting started. Mark should be smarter than to consider this, but he’s far too weak for Yuta at the best of times, let alone when he's already being worked open. “A blank I.O.U.,” Yuta wheedles, kissing Mark’s hipbone, “Cashable at any time.”

An offer like that from Nakamoto Yuta is no joke. An I.O.U. from his boyfriend is pretty much a ticket to anywhere Mark's heart desires. Mark’s fucked and been fucked by him enough times to know he’s down for literally anything. He’ll put his all into whatever that may be, too. Mark knows it _oh-so-well._

The time Mark had tentatively mentioned his hentai proclivities a month or so into their relationship, for example, Yuta had gone straight online and ordered him as many ultra-realistic tentacle dildos as Mark’s small body could handle. When Mark had brought up that he maybe sort of wanted to try something with him in public, he’d ended up fucking Yuta in a nightclub bathroom the next time they went out. _The list goes on._ It might be stifling to some, being the constant receiver of such unwavering adoration, but Mark loves how much attention Yuta smothers him in. He adores him in return, more each passing day.

Yuta’s teeth return to nipping bruises into his skin, and Mark lets his head fall back onto their sheets. Sappiness can wait for the absence of overwhelming need. He’s scared to ask the next part, though. Both of his boyfriends are well-versed in ruining Mark, but Yuta in particular is _beyond_ terrifying. Still, Mark asks “... And if you win, hyung?”

Yuta doesn’t mince his words. Mark both enjoys and hates that in a lover, liking the openness and hating his uncontrollable reactions to it. “I want you to sit on my face, darling, and then I’ll edge you until you cry,” he says, nonchalant and chilling all in one. 

_He’s done it before, though it’s been a while, and Mark doesn’t doubt Yuta’s ability to do it again, over and over._ Just at the thought, he seizes up. Yuta’s hands have to double their exerted strength to keep Mark’s thighs from locking around his neck, and the feeling of being so forcibly held apart only makes Mark whimper all the more. Yuta laughs, curling his fingers _up_ inside him. Mark’s cock jumps pathetically where it rests against his heaving abdomen, leaking and needy. There’s purpling indents from Yuta's teeth all over his thighs, and Yuta leaves another set of those same bruises like an afterthought when he sees Mark looking at them. Mark is already so on edge, so _close._ He cries out, high and reedy. “Yuta, _fuck-”_

Like Yuta knows Mark doesn’t stand a chance, he offers lower. “Two minutes, Markie? Would that be better for my baby, hm?”

Dull-edged pride wells up in him, the need to prove himself clashing with _Mark_ knowing that he doesn’t stand a chance, either. “Two and a half,” he compromises, like that'll actually help when it comes to it. Yuta could make him come in thirty seconds if he tried.

Yuta’s tongue dips between his fingers — just once, enough for Mark’s eyes to well up — and then he stands. He smiles easily, _meanly,_ like he hasn’t just made Mark combust, eating up his sorry soul before spitting it right back out again. Mark’s legs flop weakly to the floor, pins and needles tingling through his toes. He squirms. “Sure. Do we have a deal, darling?”

_Of course they do._ “Yes.” Mark nods, trembling. They shake on it, Yuta’s hand all lubey and gross, and Mark wipes it on the already sullied sheets as soon as Yuta lets go. He yelps moments later, his phone hitting him in the chest as Yuta grabs it from their bedside table. 

“Call him now, baby.”

Looking up, Mark sees Yuta holding his own phone, the timer app lit up innocuously on his screen. “No fucking me loud enough for him to hear,” he warns. Without stuttering, too, which just shows how far they’ve come from the start of their relationship. Yuta will have him incoherent soon enough, sure, but that’s beside the point. 

“Would I _ever?”_ Yuta pouts, all big eyes and exaggerated ‘innocence’. _Ha._ Yuta, innocent. There’ll be the day hell freezes over. “That would be cheating.”

“Uh huh.” Mark emphasises the words, short and staccato. “Like you’ve never done _that_ before.”

“You wound me, baby.” That _damn_ pout. The smile that follows it is even worse, the dangerous kind that should trigger a fight-or-flight response. Instead, it just makes Mark harder. 

“Promise me first,” Mark repeats, because if Yuta fucks him hard enough it won’t even be the slapping skin that’ll give them up. It’s impossible to stay quiet when Yuta goes all-in. His finger hovers above the call button right below _‘_ ** _Johnny-hyungie ♡’_** _._ He waits, because Mark trusts Yuta without a promise about as far as he can throw him. Rightly so.

Yuta huffs, remarkably over-dramatic for someone currently lubing up their cock. “Meanie,” he says, he _whines,_ like Mark can possibly hold a candle to him in that department. _“Fiiine._ I promise not to fuck you _loud enough for him to hear.”_ He parrots Mark’s words back to him perfectly, because Yuta is nothing if not attentive, and steps closer. The barbell through the tip of his cock brushes against Mark’s stretched-out hole. Mark trembles all over. Broken before he’s even split apart.

This is a terrible, awful plan that Mark is gonna fail spectacularly at. He kind of wants to, though. That’s the point of all of this; the thrill of getting caught with their pants down, so to speak. 

The dial tone fills the relative silence. Suspended, they wait for their boyfriend to pick up. It rings _once, twice,_ _three times,_ and then crackles to life.

“Hey, baby!” Johnny greets him cheerily. Mark can hear the sweet smile on his face, a stark contrast to the downright _evil_ look on Yuta’s as he pointedly starts the timer. Placing it on the bed beside Mark, the descending sequence of numbers is clearly visible. 

_02:29_

“Baby?...” Johnny repeats himself. Mark realises that he’s yet to reply, understandably scared of what the fuck Yuta is going to do to him once he starts to speak. “Mark, you good, dude?”

_Isn’t he just?_

“I’m g-great, man, yeah!” Mark enthuses. In his overcompensating as he tries to sound normal, he just comes across like he’s half-yelling into the phone. Then again, he’s always pretty damn enthusiastic when Johnny’s involved, so he probably sounds just fine. “What’re you doing?” he asks, putting him on speaker. Albeit probably unsuccessfully, he’s trying to get Johnny to ramble about whatever he’s up to— and therefore lessen the need for Mark to be quite so vocal. The way Yuta makes him tremble is a dead giveaway, after all. 

_02:18_

Sure enough, Johnny doesn’t pick up on it. Mark's enthusiasm for his boyfriend comes in handy, it seems. “Oh, nothing much— just picking up some stuff from the store on my way home.” _Fuck. No rambling, then._ “Do you guys need anything?”

_02:10_

Yuta pushes forward, almost enough to breach but deliberately pausing at _not-quite,_ saving the emphasis. If Mark’s speaking, it’ll have the maximum impact, after all. “We uh, _fuck—”_ Mark gasps as Yuta pushes in, leaning down to murmur _‘tell Johnny we’re out of hot sauce’_ like this is a perfectly normal phone call, like he’s not balls-deep in Mark’s ass right now. Yuta is frustratingly calm, near-indifferent bar the evil look in his eyes, and it’s ridiculously attractive that he can blow Mark’s mind without breaking a sweat. “— Yuta-hyung says we’re out of hot sauce.”

_01:56_

Johnny hums in acknowledgement. “I’m in the frozen aisle right now, but sauces are the next over. I’ll grab it in a minute. Anything else, baby?”

_01:45_

Yuta’s sharp fingernails dig into the sensitive skin of Mark’s hip bones as he pulls out almost completely, and Mark chokes on a whine. Not even at the flash of pain, he’s ashamed to admit, but at the feeling of being empty. “Uh-” Mark struggles to think, Yuta’s hand closing around his cock the second he starts to speak. “Lube!” he blurts out, because he can feel it dripping down his thighs. “We, uh, we’re nearly out of t-that too.”

_01:35_

_01:34_

_01:33_

Johnny goes quiet at the other end of the phone for a moment, breath hissing between his teeth. Mark imagines his hands clenching white-knuckled on the shopping trolley, and listens to the calming breaths he takes. It's cute. Johnny always gets _particularly_ affected whenever Mark says anything dirty over the phone. That’s actually one of the reasons Mark wanted to do this, because Johnny finding out what they’re doing is a definite. He'll either guess in the two-and-a-half minutes or be told once they’re up — and it’ll kill him. It’ll ruin him in the kind of way that makes him fuck Mark until he sobs, and Mark loves it when Johnny gets like that.

Yuta is electric, all-consuming in his adoration for Mark and not scared to show it. Any time, anywhere, Yuta will leap on him and pretzel his limbs around his boyfriend in so obvious a claim that nobody would be foolish enough to try and take what’s his. It’s things like that that make Mark wonder how it would have been if he’d met Yuta first. _Would Johnny even be in the picture, if Mark was already Yuta’s?_ Yuta’s possessive and needy, and it riles Mark up like hell in the best sense, but it could have been difficult falling for Johnny too with Yuta coiled around his heart. 

As fate has it, though, Johnny had been Mark’s first. In every conceivable sense of the word. Johnny’s possessive too, more of a _loom over Mark’s shoulder until whoever’s flirting leaves_ kind of way than the Yuta approach. For Yuta, though, they’d both made an exception to their norm and let him in. 

“Mark?”

“Yeah?”

_01:30_

Somehow, miraculously, Mark has made it a minute in without Johnny outright guessing what’s going on at the other end of the phone. It feels less like a miracle than like a cat playing with its food. Yuta fucks back into him, harsh but quiet, and Mark’s eyes roll back in his head. He lets out a piteous _ahh,_ and his suspicions are confirmed with one look at his boyfriend's smug face. Mark feels like prey, like Yuta’s sharp nails, sharp teeth, sharp _everything,_ are going to rip him apart. Like he can read Mark’s mind _(and isn’t that a terrifying prospect),_ Yuta times the next snap of his hips with biting into Mark’s neck hard enough to bruise. 

“Do you have something planned for tonight that I’m unaware of, baby?” Johnny asks. Right. Still on the lube topic.

_01:16_

_They absolutely do. Johnny’s gonna come home to a dually horny mess that’ll suck him right into their midst. Not that Mark thinks he'll mind it._ “No,” Mark laughs nervously. “Just good to be _fuck-”_ Yuta bites him again on the other side of his neck, spits into his own hand and wraps it around Mark’s cock, _“-ing_ prepared, y’know, dude?”

_01:07_

“Sure…” Johnny sounds less than convinced, but not suspicious enough for Mark to lose just yet. “Do you need anything else from the store, then?”

“I…” Mark’s brain feels like it’s bubbling, like it’s going to overflow, vacate his head and leave him with blank space. Yuta’s hand around his dick is relentless, jacking him like he’s making a career of it. It’s good that Mark isn’t pierced like him, or there’d be no hope whatsoever with that extra sensitivity— or, perhaps, Mark with a dick piercing would make _Yuta_ incoherent whenever he looked at it. Yuta does love the sight of him, after all. He’d nearly come in his pants when Mark mentioned he’d been considering getting a nipple ring the other week.

"Anything else, Mark?" Johnny repeats, "Is your line bad or something?"

Yuta pushes Mark up the bed, cock almost slipping out of him, and tugs Mark into his lap. Mark’s capacity for rational thought seems to have been replaced by buzzing TV static, volume set to full and crackling loud enough to hurt. His dick is rubbing against Yuta's navel piercing, and it's always a shock, how cold it is. “... No?” he says, then realises that if Johnny hangs up on him it voids the competition, “But don’t go!”

_01:00_

_Mark shouldn’t have made it this far, and he knows it. He’s being batted between sharp claws for Yuta’s amusement._

“You’re acting strange, Mark,” Johnny says. Mark tenses around Yuta, who winces briefly but keeps on fucking into him without pause. _Has Johnny guessed?_

“Me being needy isn’t anything new, hyung, c’mon,” Mark manages to counter. "I-I'm always hard to hang up on, aren't I?"

_00:53_

It works. “True, true,” Johnny easily agrees. Maybe Mark should be offended, but the embarrassed flush he can feel creeping up his neck makes Yuta’s eyes darken, so it’s worth it. “What about Yuta, can you put him on if he’s there?”

_00:49_

Bad Idea. _Bad Idea._ ** _Bad Idea!_**

It blares through Mark’s brain like a siren, but he’s never been good at following his own advice. Yuta pulls his hair, arching Mark’s neck and making him nearly fumble and drop the phone. Somehow, Yuta can make anything seem like the best idea in the world. In between whimpers stifled into Yuta’s shoulder, cock rubbing against the faint lines of Yuta’s abs, Yuta surrounding his everything, Mark manages to speak. “Sure, he’s right here, aren’t you, babe?”

_00:45_

He’s closer than that, than forty-five seconds, can feel it coiling in his stomach, hot and heavy. Mark’s just shy of begging— so near to winning, and he can’t even make it.

Yuta takes the phone from Mark’s clammy hands and clicks it off speaker. They’re close enough, Mark still pressed up against Yuta’s front, that Mark can still hear the ambient noise from Johnny’s end. The cart rattling across the store's cheap floor, the way it screeches when he makes a turn. Still, it’s like Yuta’s shutting him out for being unworthy of their attention, and Mark could come just from the thought of it. _He might just do so._ Yuta’s free hand grips Mark’s waist and holds him stationary, still fucking into him lazily like a toy, like some emotionless hole for Yuta to play with. He’s not even touching Mark's cock any more, just occasional grinds against his stomach that feel more accidental than deliberate bestowments of pleasure. 

They _are_ deliberate, though. Even though Yuta’s keeping up a front. He knows Mark likes it like that sometimes, when he hides the adoration just a little, treats Mark like something less than his entire universe for a second or two. Yuta knows Mark inside and out, every single one of his weaknesses. And Mark has many. This, being in Yuta's lap with metal rubbing against his cock, is certainly one of them.

_00:30_

Faint words. _"What are you doing?"_

“What am I doing?” Yuta echoes Johnny’s muffled voice. He swipes some of Mark’s precum up on his fingers, raising it to his lips and licking it off. Humming consideringly, as if he’s thinking about Johnny’s question rather than savouring the sharp taste on his tongue, Yuta looks Mark right in his wide eyes. Fucks into him _hard,_ just the once, then back to that same disinterested pace. “What am I _doing?...”_ Yuta pauses, that _look_ on his face. Someone about to deal a killing blow. “Oh, nothing important.”

_Fuck,_ Mark feels so small.

Right then, he knows that he’s lost. It’s not defeat, really, but the culmination of something predetermined, because the strongest man in the world couldn’t survive Yuta like this. And Mark is only weak when it comes to him. Yuta makes losing the best possible outcome. 

_“Yuta, angel?”_ Johnny’s far-away voice asks, tinny and meant for Yuta’s ears only. Soft and domestic. Mark listens in. Johnny is beautifully oblivious and caught up in his shopping trip, nowhere near his usual levels of perception. He really has no clue. _“Do you know why Mark was asking about lube?”_

_00:10_

Yuta laughs, still fucking into the pliant body in his lap, a hand around Mark’s pitifully throbbing cock. “I think I have an idea, darling.”

Mark _knows_ he’s lost, because it’s impossible for Mark to be quiet when he comes. Yuta knows it. Both Mark's hands are preoccupied with clawing at Yuta’s back, and trying to get one back to muffle himself feels like moving in slow motion. Sluggish and wholly ineffective. 

_00:03_

_00:02_

Almost perfectly timed, Mark’s body lights up, his eyes honing in on the sight of Yuta watching him with unhindered adoration. _Yuta can never keep up a pretense when he’s watching his baby come, he says._ Apparently Mark looks prettiest like this, all flushed and heaving and about to moan loud enough that even Johnny’s obliviousness can’t mask what’s going on.

_00:01_

Loss, but not quite.

Yuta’s hand claps over Mark’s mouth right as the tension snaps and floods over, cum spilling between their heaving bodies. Quick as a flash, he stops the timer before it can interrupt the call. Lightning reflexes, still fully alert. He’s still hard inside, but seems as unbothered by that as ever, stilling and leaving Mark essentially cockwarming him. Yuta looks scarily pleased with himself.

It couldn’t be more obvious that his boyfriend has let him win. Some would assume it’s him taking the lazy route out of the taxing prospect of edging Mark— it can go on for _forever_ when Yuta teases him, after all. Others may assume he’s just being nice. _Laughable._ Mark knows better than that, knows that it’s the goddamn principle of the thing. 

Mark has won, but he _hasn’t_ at the same time, a fine balance that Yuta retains the most power over. It’s infuriating, and so, _so_ Yuta. Whatever prize Mark chooses for himself will still be half _his,_ and by fuck will Yuta make sure he knows it. His boyfriend is the most simultaneously frustrating and perfect being to ever walk this unworthy Earth.

Only half-aware of his surroundings in his post-orgasmic haze, Mark dimly registers Johnny telling them he’s at the tills. Impeccable timing, which tracks for him.

“Hurry home, my love,” Yuta urges then, sugar-sweet. Too sweet to cope with for anyone but Johnny and Mark, who adore his uncurbed enthusiasm. Just enough to share between them. “Mark has something to tell you about.”

He hangs up on a bewildered Johnny, and turns his full attention to the lover he has with him already. Mark is panting like he’s just run a marathon, taken an ill-advised shortcut and accidentally kept going on a hundred miles too far. Perhaps he’s being a tad dramatic with such comparisons, but it feels well-earned. “Christ, Yuta.”

Yuta bites Mark’s ear, right over where Mark knows his blush has spread to, then tugs a piercing between his teeth. Harsh and sweet. He kisses Mark's cheek in a contrastingly chaste display. When he speaks, it’s too close in a way so entirely _him._ “You loved it, and you know it. You love me just like this."

It's overconfidence that's been built up to. A display of Yuta's boundless trust in Mark's hold on his heart.

_You love me just like this._ Mark doesn’t even consider denying it. 

**Author's Note:**

> me, gesturing helplessly: the idea wouldn't leave me BE i just had to bash it out so i could have peace
> 
> **an unfortunately obligatory disclaimer from past experience: pls don't just comment saying you want a sequel, this is a oneshot + it's pretty discouraging to have that be the only feedback i get**
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/scbaes)
> 
> [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/minbinnie)
> 
> pls comment/kudos too!!
> 
> \- V xxx


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